


The Gospel Truth

by Sakuraiai



Series: Disney Arc [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Disney Movies, F/M, Fallen Angels, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Heroes & Heroines, Inspired by Hercules, Kidnapping, M/M, Mutual Pining, Wings, you know the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:57:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakuraiai/pseuds/Sakuraiai
Summary: Inspired by Disney's HerculesDuring an epic battle in Heaven, the Archangel Gabriel is kidnapped by Lucifer and brought to Hell. Tortured and forced to fall, he ends up on the surface, with little grace, living among humans.He is reunited with his younger brother Castiel, who helps him find a way back home. Having to pass a right of passage to return home, he meets Dean and Sam who help him in his quest.But is fighting supernatural creatures deemed worthy enough for him to return to his home in Heaven?And...will he want to go back?





	1. Prologue - Mnemosyne

**Author's Note:**

> _Sorry about the summary...don't want to give too much away_
> 
> We're back my darling reader!  
> And this time, its Hercules!
> 
>  **Warning!**  
>  Wing gore and torture (though not too bad)

Mnemosyne Café.

The small and immensely popular hole in the wall cafe was filled with a large horde of people, all waiting in line for their morning fix of coffee and sugary treats. Having come in early that morning, he sat in his usual booth near the very back of the café. He was a regular customer to the café, with a regular seat and a ‘the usual’ drink.

_“Fallen Feather Latte”_

He remembered those nights he had spent pondering the name, tapping his straw on the whipped cream peak, pushing the straw down and cracking into the sugar feather sitting on the top.  _His feather._ He mused. The whipped cream had a shiny sprinkle of cinnamon and something else that he could just not place, but it was a beautiful gold colour that sparkled in the sunlight coming from the window.

The drink itself was a shimmering gold in colour, with tumulus browns and greens within it,  _his colours_. He remembered when he had first seen others drinking it. The colours never did mix together, the green and browns always stayed separate from the gold, gleaming with their almost magical wonder.

He had thought it would taste absolutely disgusting. But, once he fell into peer pressure and the constant nagging at how good the taste was, he had become quite taken with the drink. And then he had heard the story behind it, heard the story behind  _them._ And it had quickly become his favourite.

Looking up as the line dissipated slowly around him, he saw the five beautiful barista and staff of the coffee shop mulling around. The beautiful red head barista, Charlie, as he learned her name was, stood on the other end of the long bar, taking a customers’ payment. Another, older woman, Jody, was on the other side of the bar, helping another older blonde, Donna with the orders. Jody had short cropped dark hair and a smile that made crinkles appear at the corners of her eyes. Another beautiful dark haired young woman, Alex, was bussing the tables at the further end.

A gorgeous blonde waitress, Claire, leaned into the booth before his, smiling as she jotted down the customers’ order on the pad.

She roved her gaze to him and winked. He felt his cheeks heat up at the attention. The staff here were so beautiful, so otherworldly. If it wasn’t the delicious drinks and food that brought you in, the women lured you into their traps like the gorgeous sirens they were.

Taking a sip of his drink, he remembered his first time coming here. The first time he had heard the story. The first time his entire world view changed before him.

The store had recently opened and the sun was setting for the day. He had slipped in just before Donna had flipped the sign to closed. The line had been long then as well, the last customers to come and get their fix before they were ushered out of the store. He had taken a look around to the Grecian remnant interior, seeing the straight pillars on the walls that rivalled that or the Parthenon, and the almost exact miniature replica of the Coliseum that stood as their order and check out bar. He was mesmerised by the beautiful women who ushered him in, smiled at him and welcomed him into their delicious smelling café. He finally stood in the constant long line that took over Mnemosyne, and waited patiently.

As the line depleted, as did the many comers and goers in the store, he finally reached the front, and found he was the last person in the café. He had been told by his colleagues to visit the café, and to order the ‘Fallen Feather Latte’, and after having seen it in his colleagues hands in their breaks, and hearing of its delicious taste, he was eager to try it.

“Why is it called Mnemosyne?” the customer before him asked, bringing him out of his stupor. He wondered about the name too, there had to be a reason.

Not one he expected though.

Charlie flipped her red hair over her shoulder and said in an obvious tone, “Because Zeus was taken,”

He took out his phone then, jotting the name down and smirked. Mnemosyne was a lover of Zeus, and the mother of the Muses, goddesses of the arts, and proclaimers of heroes. The name really went with the Grecian domicile they called a café.

He reached the café, seeing the others starting to clean up. Ordering his coffee, he sat on the bar stool, watching as Claire made his drink. She had an otherworldly flair to her as she worked the elaborate coffee machine.

He flipped through his phone once again, taking in the information of the café name.

“Daughters of Mnemosyne,” he murmured, chuckling. “Muses…”

The five in the café paused what they were doing and circled around him, watching him with eerie, yet beautiful eyes, and smiling mouths.

“What do you know about Muses?” Jody asked, holding her hands to her hips.

He shook his head, holding his phone out to show them the wiki-article. Alex scoffed, pulling herself up to sit on the barstool in front of him.

“Oh now come on, ladies,” Donna said, holding a hand to her curvy hips. “Let him breathe,”

But he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He wanted to know why they had called it something so enriching. What made them choose  _that_ name? If they were going for the whole Greek thing, there were many other, more popular gods and goddesses they could name their café after.

“Why  _do_ you call it Mnemosyne?” he asked, tentatively taking the hot beverage from the gorgeous blonde.

“It’s named after our mother,” Claire said, placing the drink on a coaster on the bar.

“You’re not…” he paused. No, that couldn’t be. Sure there was definitely something  _beautiful_ and  _foreign_ about these five women. But were they  _really_ the fabled muses? Or was this all just a ploy for marketing attention. He should tread carefully. “What brings you here?”

“We proclaim heroes,” Jody said, leaning back against the bar. She pointed a dainty finger to the cup before him. “Wanna hear a story about your drink?”

“Yes please,” he said, holding both hands around the golden beauty in front of him.

Jody settled on the chair, as did the others. They looked like they were going to dance with the swift way they moved. “Our story starts…many eons ago…”

 

~~

 

Gabriel was injured.  _Badly._

Blood was splattered all over his body. His usually shining bright armour was shattered and torn. The chest plate having met with swords and claws of the horde of evil surrounding him. His usually slicked back golden blonde hair was matted red and black with blood and gore. There were thick, black and blue bruises all over his exposed skin. His arms were singed and streaked with the blood of his enemies, as was his chest and legs. He had lacerations and burn marks all over him. But his eyes, they were blazing a whiskey gold. He was determined.

He wasn’t going to let these assholes get to him.

Looking back at the carnage of war, he saw his brethren, his angel brothers and sisters all fighting the good fight, working under God’s all mighty word. He saw his youngest brother, Castiel driving out the demons who dared to come up to Heaven’s gates. His large black wings fluttered behind him as he moved with the grace of a soldier.

Forcing himself to look at his objective, currently the large group of demons before him, he growled low. His father had given him orders, he had given him an army, he had given him a job.

How  _dare_ the demons taint the divine with their sickness?

Flapping his six mighty gold wings, he zipped through the hordes of black and red monsters, sword swinging high and purchasing flesh successfully. Blood and grace was seeping from his body, and he was quickly tiring out. He didn’t know how long they had been here, at the Gates of Heaven, fighting the thousands and thousands of demons that had found a way to get into Heaven.

Demons were unable to get into Heaven, there was just no way. His commander, Castiel, had told him there had to be someone helping them from the inside. But who, _who,_ would do something like that? Who would allow these retched beasts access to the holy? Who would grant them their wrong to Heaven?

They were sent to Hell through Judgement, through _his_ judgement. He had seen to each and every one of these demons he now killed, seen their hearts and had seen the darkness within them. They had all pleaded with him, getting to their knees and promising him everything they had. But Gabriel never swayed, his Father had given him an important job.

Even if it meant forcing one of his own brothers to rule over Hell.

He had remembered Lucifer’s face when he had Judged him, when he had used his strengths to strip him of his divinity and sent him to rule over the grace of Hell. It was a job he was right for. Gabriel had seen the mischievousness in his heart, seen the darkness that dwelled within him.

They all had some kind of darkness within them. What with the perfect archangel Michael as their oldest brother, the first ever archangel created under their Father’s image. He and his brothers had all gone mad with love for him, but they held a jealousy in their hearts.

Michael held his father’s heart, held his love. Held everything that they wished and prayed to have. Michael was the leader among them all. He was fathers’ right hand man. And Gabriel, as well as the other angels, had grown to that. They all adored him, they all followed his righteous words.

However, not everyone felt the same love. And _that_ was one of the reasons why Lucifer had been sent to rule Hell. It was their Father’s word, and it was his duty. He would not go against that, no matter how much he would miss him.

However, if there was someone on the inside bringing these demons to their doorstep, Gabriel – though he hated to admit it – knew it was most likely someone who followed Lucifer, someone who was loyal to Lucifer.

But he was the fastest archangel ever created, and nothing was going to stop him. He was going to listen to the duty his father had given him, he was going to fight until his last breath.

Or at least that was what he thought.

He hadn’t expected his elder brother, the man he had loved dearly and held close to his heart, the man he had judged and sent to Hell, turn against him.

Stopping at the monumental gates, he saw the familiar eyes of his brother Lucifer turn a demonic red. His eyes were filled with rage and hate. So different to what Gabriel was used to.

He held Uriel in his grip, reaching back and plunging his clawed hands deep into his brothers’ chest. Uriel gasped and screamed in pain; grace seeping out from his mouth and enveloping the skies with bright light.

Gabriel clenched his eyes shut at the bright light, but when he looked back, his heart plummeted to his stomach. Uriel dropped to the ground in a heap, his wings turning to ash and burning the ground below him.

Looking up with such pain filling his heart, Gabriel saw Lucifer look up at him, smiling so brightly, so  _proudly,_ blood seeping down his hand as he held…

…as he held Uriel’s heart in his grasp.

The heart gave one last beat in his hand before it stilled. Lucifer squeezed his grip and the heart crushed into a mess of gory mulch.

Gabriel wanted to throw up.

“How could you!” He yelled over the commotion.

But Lucifer didn’t listen. Instead, he unfurled his gorgeous red wings and rose up to the air. Gabriel couldn’t help but follow him. He _had_ to know. Why…why was Lucifer doing this? Why had he brought _demons_ to their home? Had he not been happy with his duty? Why didn’t he speak to him, Gabriel could have helped him!

He stretched his wings out, spanning so wide in the skies and vaulted up, zipping through the air so quickly, following the figure that he called his brother. The wind whipped around him as he got closer and closer to his brother.

“Lucifer!” Gabriel yelled, flapping his wings and keeping up with the larger winged archangel. He may be the fastest, but Lucifer had other plans up his sleeve.

Gabriel barely heard Castiel screaming his name, but Lucifer was upon him. He had created a perfect mirage of himself – a trick he had taught Gabriel when they were still fledglings, happy and together. Though Gabriel was well aware of what was going to happen, he hadn’t expected it, not at all. Lucifer stopped, turning and spreading his wings wide, the sun caught the red and almost blinded him. But it was the projection behind him he should have been worried about.

Gabriel felt the heat of Lucifer on his back. It was a sickening burn. Lucifer smelled of blood and gore, of the blood of his brothers, and not the decaying demons below them. Wanting answers, Gabriel turned, curling his wings to do so, but Lucifer didn’t let him get very far.

Gabriel wasn’t fast enough to react, he hadn’t expected it, _he never would have expected that._ An intense, white hot pain seared at his top most wing. He heard the distinct sound of something cracking and those claw-like hands plunging in deep, yanking at his feathers until there was nothing left. He gasped for breath as he seized up.  _His wing!_  What had Lucifer done to his wing?

The pain made him curl his uninjured wings, he leaned back and plummeted. But Lucifer was upon him. He held him by the aching and broken wing and together they dropped down, down, down, through the battlefield, passed the beautiful gates, and into the darkness below.

Gabriel was in so much pain, his entire body ached from the battle and the distress in his wing, he couldn’t stay awake for too long. The darkness blurred around him until he couldn’t make anything out any more.

Why brother…why?

He was suddenly brought back to reality as Lucifer slammed him onto a rocky platform. Blood and grace was seeping out of his body and gathering on the ground like a morbid pool.

There was a circle underneath him, and suddenly the painted circle erupted in flames, and Gabriel found he was unable to move. His brother had captured and caged him.

His wing! He had to see his wing!

Oh, his six glorious, golden wings were dripping a bluish grace. The once gold feathers were matted with blood, singed with the burning flames around him and sticking out this way and that. The wings themselves were at odd angles, broken in several places, and one of the top most wings was almost completely severed.

_My wing…_

“Why?” Gabriel asked, feeling the ache in his body.

“Why?  _Why?_ ” Lucifer growled, he circled around the fire trap he had created, watching Gabriel like a predator watched prey. “Father made _you_ the fastest, father gave _you_ the glory. And what do I get?” – he swept his arms to the darkness around him – “This hell hole,”

Gabriel looked around them, only just noticing the cavernous rocky terrain that made the dungeons of Hell. Lucifer had brought him to  _Hell?_ “But Lucifer!”

“Do not interrupt me,” Lucifer growled. “ _I_ was fathers favourite. And now he cares for you, he gives you  _everything!”_

In his anger, he raised his hand, and thick golden chains wrapped around Gabriel’s body, tightening until the archangel couldn’t breathe. With another flick of Lucifer’s fingers, pincer like claws flew up from the ground and dug deep into the flesh of Gabriel’s wings, locking themselves into place.

Gabriel screamed, struggling out of his bonds. Grace and blood pooled around him, lightning like aches crashing into his wings, sizzling until he smelled the distinct scent of his feathers burning, his wings were dying and all he could do was watch as his brother killed him.

“You  _must_ be punished.”

_Father…help me…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small start...what do you think?  
> Come and have a cup of tea with me on [ my tumblr! ](sakurai-ai.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> [ Also! Art! ](http://sakurai-ai.tumblr.com/post/164651342106/daily-art-challenge-archangel-gabriel)  
>  **


	2. Fallen

How long had he been here?

Gabriel’s eyes opened groggily, or did they open at all? He didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything anymore.

Looking up, he saw darkness greet his eyes, the kind of darkness that destroyed all illusion of anything around him. He didn’t know where he was, what kind of room he was in. Was he in a room? His body was strung up, arms held high up in the air, coiled with chains, the metal biting into his skin. Or were they? Gabriel had lost all feeling in his arms a long time ago. He was on his knees, the rocky ground making his knees ache…or was he standing? _He just didn’t know…_

All he knew was his wings. Oh… _his wings_ …he wept at his bruised and battered wings, but now his body was hollow, his mind was almost eerily clear. He had lost his voice, the screams only echoing, doing nothing but damage to his vocal cords.

_This was what hell did._ It made you lose your mind until there was nothing left, nothing but the husk of the person you once used to be.

But though he may have been numb to everything around him, the only thing he did remember, as it was always, _always,_ there, was pain, just pure, aching, and stabbing, needle point, and white hot pain, all over him. Every single part of him hurt, from the depth of his body to the tips of his wings.

But his mind…it still kept on replaying the same words…over and over again. Hoping someone, _anyone,_ would hear him.

_Save me…please…_

 

~~

 

God was furious.

He stood before his archangel sons, Michael and Lucifer. He had already wept the loss of Uriel, and the other angels he had lost in the battle. But right now, he knew, _he knew,_ his Gabriel was not dead. Someone had some explaining to do, so he had called the only remaining commanders, the two archangels, to his throne room and held them accountable for everything that happened on the battlefield.

He held his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed, body full of the power he held in his small frame. His voice was thunderous as he spoke, shaking the very foundations in his rage.

“Where is my son?”

Castiel pushed the door open to the large throne room his father was in. His smaller stature – especially compared to the two massive archangels that stood before him, each with their own glorious wings that spanned the cosmos – was hunched as he quickly rushed to the very front. He pushed passed his brothers and stood tall, like the soldier he was, in front of his father.

“It was Lucifer!” He said confidently, not daring to look back at the man he was accusing. He knew if his father didn’t believe him, Lucifer would slaughter him. But it was better to get the truth out. Father would do something about it, he was sure of it. “I saw him take Brother Gabriel away. I saw them fall.”

He could hear the low grating growl and the feeling of something burning against his back, his brothers grace was forcing him down, pushing him to the ground, as if telling him this was his punishment for speaking the truth.

Castiel didn’t let him, he _wouldn’t_ let him. He knew what he saw. Gabriel flying high in the sky, following Lucifer to the gates of Heaven. He hadn’t seen what happened after Gabriel had stopped, as he had been busy in the throngs of battle. But he had heard the heart wrenching screaming coming from his brother Gabriel. Looking up to the sound, as many others had done also, he had witnessed Lucifer take Gabriel down, forcing him to fall.

The other angels were too headstrong and always followed the rules, so much so that the very thought of going against an archangel was something that left a sickness in their mouths. But Castiel was not about to let Lucifer free. He wanted Gabriel back. And if he and he alone, had to go against his own brother, an archangel, then he was damned to do so.

God listened intently, running a finger over his bearded chin. He cocked his gaze to the devil himself. “Lucifer, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Lucifer’s grip on Castiel hardened, until all Castiel could do was keeping himself standing up. His breathing had become harsh

“You dare accuse me of something so foul?” Lucifer yelled his voice much louder than it needed to be. He held a hand to his chest as if the very idea itself made him recoil. “I would never do that to Gabriel. _I love him._ ”

Castiel tried to push Lucifer’s grace away, wanting Lucifer to be put to judgement – though without Gabriel, he knew that was not possible – but he wished the devil would receive God’s wrath for killing his own kind!

“Father he is lying!” he cried.

Lucifer’s strength increased, pushing Castiel down to his knees, sending more and more grace into him until he was flat on the floor, gasping for breath. His voice had been taken by the devil, leaving him to scream in silence as Lucifer’s grace ripped through him.

“I believe it is Castiel who is lying to you father.” Lucifer said, stepping in front of Castiel, hiding his silent agony behind his large wings. “He has always been jealous of Gabriel. Always following him around.” He looked back at the writhing Castiel, his face rising to a smirk, before turning and falling back to sadness. “Maybe it was _he_ who made Gabriel fall?”

Castiel gasped, reaching out. “Father you cannot—”

“Castiel.” God yelled, holding his hand out to the seraph angel, Castiel’s eyes widened as he was forced to his feet by Lucifer’s grace. “You are banished from Heaven.”

Castiel froze his heart stopping. He was _what?_

“You will find Gabriel,” He flattened his palm, holding it out to the seraph, showing him that his word was final. “And only when you are both deemed worthy of Heaven, can you return.” He flicked his hand and a large portal appeared below him, sparking a rune symbol and burning onto the ground. “Now go.”

“Father!” Castiel yelled, pleading, holding his hands together. He needed his father to hear him, Lucifer was lying, Lucifer was manipulating him. But God was not listening, too stricken in his sadness at losing two of his first four sons, emptiness was embedded deep inside him, only one that Gabriel would be able to fill. But that meant Castiel was to fall. “Wait no! FATHER!”

The home he had once known disappeared below him, and Castiel felt himself falling, falling, falling until he reached the hard, cold, unforgiving ground. His body ached, but he forced himself up from the ground.

He was on earth.

But he had a job to do. The quicker he found Gabriel, the quicker he could get back home.


	3. Blue

The brightness of the light was almost impossible for Gabriel to decipher. Having been stuck in complete darkness for what seemed like centuries. The scent of burning papyrus and something so very unique invaded his senses.

Strawberries?

Something moved around him, zipping past him with that amazing bright light, and it startled Gabriel to reality. Looking up, he saw complicated eyes staring back at him, they were a mix of greens and blues and browns, all sorts of different colours that reminded him of the forest on the surface, on Earth, that he actually wept.

Colours…there were actual, _beautiful_ colours before his very eyes. Something so different from the pitch darkness he was used to looking at. It took a moment for his watery eyes to take in the beauty, but he let it seep into him.

But the rest of the tall being was shrouded by that brilliant light. He felt something warm on his body, at his arms, his legs, his waist and even his wings. Hands? No…fingers, yes, calloused fingers making quick work to sooth his…freed wrists?

“…you out…”

Speaking…someone was…the light was talking. Saying…something. But he didn’t know. He was too low on grace, too maddened by the darkness; the pain had taken everything away.

“…hear me?”

He felt his body stumble to its feet, he felt slow, like he was wading through water or something much, much thicker. Those arms were around him again, and he felt a jolt of pain at his wings.

“…brother can get…”

What…what was this ball of light saying? Why was he here? Why was he helping him? Was this another one of Lucifer’s ploys? He knew what his brother was like, even though he may have lost his mind, he remembered his brother, remembered the pain, could _still_ feel the pain radiating through him like white hot lightning striking down on him at every moment. He wouldn’t put it past Lucifer to give him solace, give him this pretty coloured bright light with calloused hands, only to rip it right away.

Too tired, and still in _so much pain,_ Gabriel fell to his knees, slumping heavily on the large body next to him. His eyes closed then, and he wasn’t sure they’d ever open again.

What a great demise for an archangel…

 

 

~~

 

Dean Winchester was once known as the greatest hunter in the world, nay the universe, if he did say so himself. There had been monuments and masterpieces hung up in his honour, he had been the best, and he was still the best.

And then, when he finally retired – or was forced to, because of that asshole…no, no he wasn’t going to think about that… -- he was the best trainer ever.

Well, except, nowadays, no one wanted to be a hunter any more. There were still monsters and all sorts of creepy crawlies out there, all waiting for their prey to frolic into their lair to be eaten. Dean had seen enough of that to be wary for anyone who came to his path.

He had set up a large home at the outskirts of the forest just for that reason. So when people – or stupid asshole tourists – came to see the “wonders of the forest” as they so called it, all dolled up in costume battle armour and blunt swords – because apparently no one knows how to handle or take care or weapons anymore, and that’s just sad – ready to fight make believe monsters – not that there was anything make believe about the supernatural beings he had fought in his day, and still fought to this day. They were either fortunate enough to come out of the forest running, with fear deep in their eyes, or Dean would have to listen to the cries of the innocent assholes as they were being eaten alive by what was in the forest.

No one headed his word when he told them not to venture into the forest, and though he himself thought he sounded like some old bat telling kids to stay off his lawn, it still hurt when he had to hear those screams dead into the night.

It was definitely a surprise when someone actually knocked on his back door, the one that faced the forest. Taking a gun from his weapons wall, he cocked the safety off, checking for bullets in the chamber, and held the loaded gun it to his back, just in case.

He made his way through his house, hoping it was his baby brother, but knowing it probably wouldn’t be. Sam had said he’d be going into town, like he did all the time, to speak to Ruby, the waitress at that crappy café with no pie – what crappy café didn’t sell pie? – He prayed Sam didn’t have a _thing_ for her, because that chic was straight up a demon, and not in the biblical sense.

Reaching for the handle, he readied his gun and pulled the door open. The setting sun illuminated the figure, he was tall, but shorter than Dean, with a long, dirty beige trench coat, a backwards blue tie and messy brown hair.

But his eyes… _god damn…_ those eyes were the bluest blue he had ever seen, they shone with the skies themselves. If this man literally told him he had stolen the skies to make his eyes, Dean would have believed him.

“Are you Dean Winchester?”

_Fuck…_ what a voice. It was deep, throaty and gravelly. There was definitely a power under that voice, something that told Dean this man gave orders and he expected others to follow without asking any questions.

There was something otherworldly about this man, something that made Dean grip his gun tighter. This man didn’t _look_ like a monster, and he certainly didn’t feel like one either. But this was still a man intruding on his property.

“Who’s asking?” He asked, not taking the man for anything but a threat.

The trench coated man stepped onto the step leading up to his house, hands still at his side as if Dean were just a mere human he could swat away with a mere flick of his fingers. Dean did _not_ like that look.

“ _Are you Dean Winchester?_ ” The man asked again.

Dean narrowed his gaze questioningly. “Yeah, I am,”

And just like that, the terrifying otherworldly creature that stood at the doorway’s shoulders drooped, a small, barely there smile rose to his chapped lips and his eyes surprisingly brightened up all the more. He looked…timid, antisocial and absolutely innocent.

Pulling the door further back, Dean allowed the frustratingly harmless man into his home – only to his hallway, there was no way he was going to let the man in any deeper to his property. He and his gun would do its best.

“You know, most people enter by the front door,” Dean stated, pointing to the hidden hallways in the house that led to the front.

“I am not most people.” The man stated, stepping into the house, his feet sinking into the plush rug by the back door. “I have a few questions I need to ask you,”

Dean had a feeling tonight was going to be a beer night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is the mysterious man that saved Gabriel? (okay, so its obvious, but humour me)


	4. Make it!

Gabriel awoke to see the bright lights of heaven high above him.

No… it wasn’t heaven. It was the beauty of earth’s sky. The sun had set, leaving a beautiful hue of reds and oranges fading into blue and black, little stars twinkling merrily as they appeared.

Gabriel had never seen the earth look so wondrous before.

But how had he gotten out? All he could remember was the beautiful man in his cage like prison, those complex eyes watching him intently, and that scent, papyrus and something so…intriguing. Had that man, or was he a demon, helped him escape?

Where was he now?

Getting up, he grimaced as his wings protested the sudden move. What was he going to do? Forcing himself on his shaking legs, he used the thick tree next to him for support. The bark of the tree gave way under his strong grip, cracking and shredding in his fingers.

Ah…right, earth was quite fragile.

His nose picked up a scent, the intriguing scent that he remembered and something added to it, something that smelled delicious. His stomach growled in protest, something Gabriel had never felt before. He moaned at the ache buried deep in his body, wishing it would disappear.

A sound rustled next to him, and he forced himself upright. Earth wasn’t exactly a safe utopia for anyone, especially for him in this state.

“You’re awake,”

That voice, it was the same voice as the man that had saved him. Looking around the thick brushes and branches, he saw a figure standing just a few feet away from him – how had he noticed the man before?

He held a hand out for Gabriel to take. Hesitantly, the archangel reached for him, taking his hand and using that strong grip to help him with his footing. But his legs were like jelly, and he stumbled forward, onto the thick, strong chest.

“We were intercepted by a legion of demons in hell,” the voice said, embracing an arm around Gabriel’s back, safely away from his aching wings, but still pressing the archangel close. “We barely escaped,”

The man took extra care of Gabriel’s limp wings. He lifted the archangel up in his stronger and taller body, crinkling his eyebrows with mirth rather than grimace at how heavy he must be.

“My brother can take those clamps out of your wings,” he stated, trudging his way through the dark forest as if it were a single road to solace.

Gabriel looked back to his wings, to the claw like clamps that were still embedded deep into his feathers and muscles. His grace and blood had congealed over the intrusions, but it still stuck and ached like a bitch when he tried to stretch or move his wings.

“My name is Sam,” the man answered, and Gabriel nodded, he wasn’t sure if he were able to speak.

“My…Gab—Gabe…” He tried to introduce himself, but his voice had grown so hoarse over the millennia he had spent in hell. Though, he didn’t seem to need to, Sam seemed to already know exactly who and what he was.

“Don’t be afraid, Gabriel, I am here to help,” Sam continued, and then added in a quiet whisper. “No matter what anyone says,”

Sam was so considerate, Gabriel noticed, holding him close and high, so all six of his wings were safe from the ground, and from any twigs or branches that could cut across them, or rip his feathers out. He was grateful, but also frightened.

Who _was_ this man?

He heard Sam suck in a deep breath when his cold hands sought for his warmth. He let out a loud sigh, exhausted from the day, and lay his head on Sam’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure what it was about this stranger that made him feel safe, but there was definitely something there.

Though he still wasn’t completely sure in trusting this man—demon, he still wasn’t sure. But Gabriel didn’t have anywhere to go now. And honestly, if this Sam was forcing him back into hell, if this entire thing was an act for Gabriel to witness freedom, only to have it taken away, then Gabriel didn’t care. It gave him something to think about for the next millennia or so. The scent of Sam would sting his nose, the feel of his heat and muscles moving would invade his mind, and though it was torture, it would be that of the pleasant kind.

But Sam did not lead him back to a portal of hell; he stopped just outside a small thatched house. From the back garden, Gabriel noticed, there was a lovely garden that boasted all sorts of herbs and vegetables. And the delicious scent he had smelled earlier seemed so much stronger here.

The door was pushed open by Sam’s foot and he stepped into the warm solace. The familiar feeling of magic locking into place echoed in his mind, and Gabriel realised that this man, and this house, was warded from any supernatural creatures.

Was this man a hunter?

“Another one?” Another, deep voice said from the doorway. Gabriel looked up to see they were in a kitchen, and there was another human making his way towards them.

A familiar face followed behind him. And if Gabriel was able to speak then, he would have surely screamed the name. Castiel…Castiel was here. He was here!

Gabriel could go back to heaven. He could go back home!

But Castiel looked at him; his eyes were downcast, sad. And Gabriel suddenly knew why. _Castiel was on earth._ Father must have forced him to fall. Probably to find him. Oh, his poor little brother. Having to go through such heart ache.

But a smile soon graced Castiel’s face, his darkened wings fluttered and fidgeted behind him in glee. He said Gabriel’s name, whispered it in the wind, speaking to him with such complete succour it made the archangel want to weep.

“ _Gabriel_.”

Sam manoeuvred around Dean, and ushered the archangel in his arms to the comfy sofas. His grip tightened on Gabriel’s light form, and taking care of those six monstrous wings as they curved around the both of them, the tips dragging along the ground, he reached down to settle Gabriel onto the pillows.

But Dean was on him like a shot.

“You mean _the archangel?”_ Dean asked, his eyes narrowing angrily. “Sammy, what have you done?”

“I heard rumours,” Sam muttered, though Gabriel noted something in his voice…as if he were hiding something deep within him. “We’ve got to help him, his wings are broken,”

Dean looked at Gabriel’s wings, witnessing the bruising and congealed blood, and grimaced. With a nod, he motioned for Sam to settle the archangel onto the sofa. But as soon as Gabriel’s wings touched the soft cushions, he let out a long, pain filled whine.

Almost immediately, Sam reached for Gabriel again, lifting him up from the sofa and back into his arms. Teary eyed, Gabriel wrapped his arms around Sam; he knew his feet would still be jelly-like, and he honestly needed the warmth and comfort he was getting from the moose sized hunter.

“How are we going to do this?” Sam asked.

Dean let out a loud sigh and turned to the dark haired seraph. Sam was going to ask just _where_ the angel came from, but he thought it best to get the archangel well, and then ask all of the questions. “Cas, go into the bathroom and get some medical supplies, I’ll get something to take those clamps out,”

Gabriel watched as Castiel rushed over to where the bathroom must have been. He didn’t know how long Castiel had been in this home, but he seemed to have a good layout of the house in general.

And what was with the whole _Cas_ thing?

Sam manhandled his frail body into his arms so Gabriel was straddling over hi slap, head resting on his shoulders due to their obvious height difference. Gabriel felt safe like this – which was an odd feeling as he was the big and scary archangel that everybody feared feeling small, soft and innocent. He closed his eyes at the pain, his body shuddering and his breaths coming out in gasps.

He didn’t understand what Sam must have seen, maybe his fear and his innocence in the matter. The pain was too much for him anyway, but he felt those large, warm hands running through his hair, soothing him. Goodness…it felt nice.

He felt his eyes slowly closing; the pain was just too much.

“Sam,” Gabriel was startled awake, feeling Sam freeze underneath him, looking up to his name being called.

“He has almost no grace left,” Castiel said quietly. Gabriel looked up and saw Castiel’s gaze soften, but he still looked worried. Did he really look that bad?

He wanted to voice his opinions, wanted to find out just _what_ it was that had Castiel looking like that. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? He hadn’t had a chance to look at himself, or see exactly what was wrong with him. All he had felt was pain.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, his fingers ran soothingly through Gabriel’s hair again, to soothe the smaller man in his arms.

Castiel didn’t answer right away. He must have known Gabriel was listening, that he was getting worried now, frightened even. Looking back, Gabriel knew Sam was trying to find an easy way to tell him, _and Sam,_ what was going on.

“He might not make it,”


	5. Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Nanowrimo finished (I know, I'm surprised I finished early too!) I will try to finish my previously written fics before I attempt any new ones.  
> It'll be slow, but it's happening~!

“What do you mean he won’t make it?” Sam’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “You are going to fix him,” 

“His wings…” Castiel said slowly, knowing not to anger the taller man. He looked like he was about to scream bloody murder. He made his way over to his brother, careful not to touch his wings. They looked absolutely awful. 

Sam growled. “You will fix him,” 

“Great, now I gotta fix another angel,” Dean grumbled from behind them. He rolled his eyes and made took the small infirmary bag from Castiel, the same as he had used on the seraph himself. There were bandages, slings, splints and ointment already sitting on the table, alongside a few black feathers that he had piled up in a small mountain – to keep, or to look at, or…something. 

Sam tightened his grip on the archangel in his lap. “Who is  _Cas?_ ” 

“He’s my brother,” Gabriel murmured between pained gasps. 

Dean was on him quick after that, moving to his broken wings. Sam felt pretty helpless as he watched his brother help the angel. He knew it should have been him doing this. He should have gotten to Gabriel quicker, then maybe, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. 

But…he had to wait…he was  _forced_ to wait. To watch the gorgeous archangel in pain, watch those beautiful eyes fill up with anguish, those wings be torn apart, only to be put back together again and torn apart all over again. The screams were awful, but they soon dulled in his ears, he had forced them back, he couldn’t take them anymore. 

Who knew walking into a middle of an archangel’s punishment would cause him so much emotion. He knew he shouldn’t have been in the underworld, he had been called by the devil himself – forced to do Lucifer’s bidding in order to keep his soul intact – but he had been curious to hear just who was screaming, just who was in the deepest recesses of hell. 

Who could be so important, so  _bad,_ that they were locked in the Cage of Hell? 

Who knew it was Gabriel…and who knew Sam would feel something towards the man? 

His grip tightened on Gabriel’s waist, Lucifer may have his soul, and Sam knew he was going to be punished for letting such a tempting beauty go. 

He may have a job, a vendetta, but he wasn’t going to let that take over his life. 

Right now, he wanted this. He reached for the lowest wing, wanting to soothe the archangel somewhat. But as soon as Dean’s fingers touched Gabriel’s wings, the archangels back arched into Sam. He let out a loud, anguish filled whine, fingers digging into Sam’s side as he forced back tears. 

“Fuck, they’re really in there,” Dean murmured as he reached for one of the clamps. 

Sam tightened his grip on the squirming angel. “It’s alright Gabriel,” 

“It hurts so much!” Gabriel yelled, his voice sounding like a wreck. He pulled open one golden, tear brimmed eye and stared up at Sam. “Just yank them out!” 

Sam reached for him then, speaking softly. “Gabriel, breathe. We’re going to get through this,  _together_ ,” 

“Shit, that suckers really on there,” Dean grumbled, his fingers digging into Gabriel’s feathers. Gabriel could feel the metal contraption, whatever it was, in Dean’s other hand as he pulled the clamps apart from the middle. He grimaced, wincing in agony as Dean moved, turning the metal in the clamps, until they slowly gave way. 

Gabriel couldn’t help but watch in morbid fascination as blood and feathers seeped out from the wings, where the clamp was. It was hideous, black and silvery blue blood and grace falling like a river onto Dean’s fingers, burning them. But Dean didn’t stop, he pushed the metal contraption – it looked like a small octagon shaped cox with claws coming out from the side, which fit around the clamps, pressed into the centre of the clamp contraption and twisted it until it gave way to the clamp claws digging into his skin. 

It was fascinating that Dean was still going, he had one foot braced on the edge of the sofa, and the other bent on the ground behind him. Castiel was behind him, holding onto his shoulders, shooting wave upon wave of calming, healing grace into his skin. 

The metal contraption pushed into the clamp, twisting until the claws of the clamp finally gave way. Shit, shit, shit,  _shit!_  

“Sam!” Gabriel cried, gripping onto his shirt. 

Sam held onto his face, forcing him to look away, and into his eyes. “Look at me, and only me.” 

His eyes held confidence, a sureness that Dean was going to help fix him, and so much care radiating in his complex eyes. Sam pressed his forehead against Sam’s chest, letting the feeling of Sam’s fingers running through the blood caked clumps of his hair, careful not to hurt him any more than he already was. He had seen the way Lucifer had tortured him. 

"Fuck, this hurts," He murmured, pressing his forehead against Sam's chest. Sam ran his fingers through the blood-caked clumps of Gabriel’s hair, careful not to hurt him anymore. There were no bumps or bruises here, not that he could feel. But he wasn’t about to pull on the blonde strands and cause the archangel more pain. 

"I won't let anything hurt you anymore," Sam replied just as quietly, stroking Gabriel's head. 

He watched as Castiel took the curve of one of Gabriel's broken wings, his fingers were stained with blood and the bluish haze of grace. The bone looked cracked straight through and the wing was slumping down, unable to move. But he knew what he had to do. He knew once the wings were set and back to place, and those god awful clamps were taken out, Gabriel would heal. 

He clenched his fingers into the flesh of the wing, nodding to Dean, who had paused in taking the last remaining clamps out, and had instead taken to holding the wing steady, he snapped it back into place. 

The scream that was released from Gabriel's mouth was deafening, and Sam felt the ring of it for a long time in his head as the two continued to work on the clamps. He tightened his grip on the flailing archangel, trying to soothe him with words he couldn't hear, wishing Gabriel didn't have to go through with this. He continued long after Gabriel had fallen unconscious because of the pain. He could feel the hot, heavy, pain filled breaths moisten his neck, harsh and grainy. The only indication that Gabriel, though unconscious, was still alive. He didn't stop his ministrations, instead tightened his arms around Gabriel's back, and continued to whisper words. He didn't know what he was saying, but he hoped it was helping. 

He watched, with morbid fascination, as Dean cut a knife through the last few clamps, prying them off the wing flesh. It took a lot of work, but they knew they had to get it done now, if they waited any long, Gabriel wouldn't heal, and if he didn't heal, then he'd never be able to use his wings again. 

After what seemed like hours, the final clamp was removed, they were all stained with blood, caked and stained with grace. Dean sat back on his feet as he threw the clamp onto the ground, blood spilling onto the floor. Castiel quickly disinfected and wrapped the injured spot on the wing, using his grace where he could. 

"Get him to one of the rooms," Dean said suddenly, getting up from his position and stretching his legs. 

Sam nodded, lifting Gabriel into his arms and making his way down to the hallway. He pushed the door open to the bedroom next to his own. It wasn't much to look at, a simple room with a bed, a side table, but it was enough for what they needed now. He set Gabriel down on the made bed. Pulling the covers back, he tucked the archangel in, wary of his huge wings, and stepped back. 

Gabriel...the archangel...he was finally here... 

He looked magnificent, the wings taking over the entire room, but they were caked with blood and dirt, he knew they'd need to be groomed. Cleaner wings healed quicker. So, he knew what he had to do. 

Making his way out of the bedroom and to the bathroom, he didn't care for Dean and Castiel murmuring to one another in the living room, most likely talking about what was happening and what they should be doing. Right now, Sam had other things to worry about. He'd get to his introductions with Castiel later. 

He returned back to the bedroom, holding a large bucket of warm water and a soft cloth close to his body. Making his way to the bed, he saw Gabriel laying there, breathing heavy and harsh, and he prayed to their lost God that he was going to destroy Lucifer. 


	6. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its taken so long to get back to this gem.  
> But I will be writing this systematically with my others stories.  
> [(See here for my weekly update)](http://sakurai-ai.tumblr.com/post/173422214156/sakuraiais-ao3-chapter-updates)

What was even happening to him right now?

Where was he?

Gabriel let the dull throbbing of his wings and back work through his body, this was nothing compared to the intense white hot heat of pain he felt all those years in hell. In fact, now that he focused on it, everything felt different. It felt... _good._ It was different to what he had considered his norm, almost like something was soothing him, sweeping over him in low droves. He felt his entire being shimmer and shudder as the heat took over, leaving warmth and wonder in its wake.

He'd felt this before. Those mere moments here and there, when he had come out of a rough torture session with Lucifer or his lackeys, when he was so beaten and destroyed that he didn't think he'd live to see another day. He had felt this familiar feeling before, even deep in the darkness of hell. He had initially thought it was his brother giving him a reprieve before the torture sessions started again. But he shouldn't be feeling that on earth. _What_ was this feeling? And  _who_ was causing it?

For a scant moment, Gabriel almost forgot everything that had happened to him back there, in hell. He was in a sort of solace, a semblance of balance and peace. How was that even possible? Who had saved him? How had he even gotten here? This was…so surreal. His thoughts ran to the night before, of the giant and beautiful human soul who had saved him, who had taken him and brought him to his freedom.

Getting up and out of the bed he had been swathed in was a lot more work than he had initially thought it would be. He couldn't move, he noticed, though not of wanting to, his body wasn't cooperating with him, still too exhausted from the past decades of torture. His back ached, and his wings felt constricted, as if someone was holding them down, keeping them on a softer plush than the hard, stabbing rocks he was used to. With a low whine, he opened his eyes and saw a butter coloured lamp light illuminate the swirls and twirls of the painted ceiling, followed by the heady scent of papyrus and that unique scent.

_Sam…_

He forced his head to move, though it didn't get very far. But he saw the giant man in question, crouched on the ground next to the bed, holding a wet and grime filled cloth in his hand, dropping it into a small bucket filled with steaming hot water. The scent of the water was sweet, and soothing with herbs. He dunked the cloth into the bucket, wrung it out, and brought it back to Gabriel’s wing. He moved in such a slow, meticulous pace, as if he had been doing this for a while, as if he had gotten used to the motions.

Sam was cleaning his wings?

Sam was…grooming him.

_Why?_

Gabriel didn’t have the chance to ask the question, the feel of that warm, soft cloth running down his wing, slowly and surely, was a solace he didn’t think he’d ever get. He had resigned him fate to being stuck in hell. He had grown numb to anything that wasn’t pain or torture, so this…this…human soul caring for him, comforting him, even as he slept, it was more than Gabriel could take.

He wanted to tell Sam to stop. But an even bigger part of him wanted to lay back and let the pretty human continue doing what he was doing. He didn’t seem to be in any pain; in fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Who was Gabriel to stop someone enjoying themselves? So instead, he let his eyes close and drifted his mind to what this meant. He was out of hell, but that meant Lucifer would know he was gone – or would he? No one had come to visit him for eons now; no one knew he was there, in hell, for all those years.

Time worked differently in heaven and hell, what could be a mere day on earth, felt like years in hell. And the deeper you went into the very bowels of hell, the longer the days progressed. Minutes turned to days, hours turned to years. It also worked the same up in heaven. They didn’t call it a lifetime in paradise for nothing.

He didn’t know how long had passed, maybe just an earth day. But…he knew it had been decades, actual decades since he had witnessed the grace of sunlight. He had been in the deepest part of hell, maybe it had been longer.

“…believe this happened…all because of me…never again…” Sam was mumbling as he moved the cloth in clean, even stroked over middle wings. He was murmuring something to himself. Gabriel tried not to listen, but curiosity killed the cat after all.

So Gabriel listened.

“…better off if I hadn’t even tried? No, he needed to get out of there, I _had_ to do it,” Sam continued, his movements still so sure as if he had done this before. “So what if Lucifer comes after me, I _need_ Gabriel,”

What? What was he saying? Sam _needed_ him? But for what? For what did Sam risk his life, _his soul,_ and gain on the wrath of his older brother, of Lucifer? What did Gabriel have that he could give Sam?

…other than his grace.

Sam wanted him for his grace? Is that why he was acting like this? Is that why he was looking after him, taking care of him and being nice to him? Was that the reason why he had come all the way to the deepest and darkest parts of hell, fought and sneaked passed demons and monsters, risked his life to get Gabriel, the dead and decrepit archangel who had lost all hope of ever being saved, of ever coming back to life. Just so he could have his grace?

He had Castiel, didn’t he? Sure Castiel was just a seraph – not _just,_ because Castiel was the strongest out there, a commander, a soldier, and the best of the best in his field. But he wasn’t an archangel.

Sam wanted him for his grace.

… _but why was Gabriel okay with that?_

The thought of anyone, _anyone,_ touching his wings, taking his grace, it was enough to make him turn an angry red, to maim, judge and kill them for even thinking of doing something so vile, so inhumane.

And yet, thinking of Sam taking his grace, pulling it out of him, especially with those loving hands, cradling his very essence in his palms. It scared him just how okay he was with that idea. Because he knew who Sam was. He was judge, he could see into the inmost deepest, darkest desires of humans and those in need of being judged.

And he knew Sam was a good man, a little weary for his wear, a little tired from want of a better life, but he was a _good man._ An exceptional man who had been handled the depths of hell itself, a man who had been given nothing but grief, nothing but heartache.

And yet, he had come out still pure, still _good._

_If Sam ever asked from him, Gabriel would give him his life._

And that was frightening.

“Why can’t I tell you how I feel for you?” Sam continued quietly, bringing Gabriel out of his thoughts.  “Why did you have to be an archangel? Why are you so far from my reach? Would you run away if I told you?”

_Oh, my dear Sam._

Gabriel wanted to wrap the shivering soul in his wings. He did just that, his largest, top most wing curved without his knowledge of doing so, wrapping around all of Sam, shrouding him from the dull lamplight, and into his feathers. Sam was shocked, that much Gabriel could tell without the need of seeing him. He had gasped, dropping the cloth in the bucket. He shuffled with the wing, unsure whether it was moving to hurt him, or if he had hurt the wing somehow.

Gabriel let out a gasp at a slight pain of where the clamps had been. It had been cleaned through and was healing quite nicely, but it still ached, like picking at a scab before the skin underneath healed properly.

His gasp brought Sam’s attention to it, and he placed a warm hand to the spot itself, soothing it with pressure and heat. The feeling was amazing, more so than it should have been. Feeling those large hands pressed on his feathers, on his muscles, it was enough to make him want to weep, to continue curling his wings around Sam and dragging him closer and closer until he could wrap his arms around the giant man.

This was all getting too much.

Sam cooed at his injury, trying to soothe it wordlessly. He blew a hot breath against the agitation, and Gabriel shuddered.

“I don’t think that was a good idea,” he murmured, though still thinking Gabriel was asleep; the archangel had noted he was talking to his wings, not to him directly. “Although this is amazing, you’re still hurt and I still need to finish cleaning you. How do I get out of here without hurting you further?”

It should have been odd, how Sam was speaking to _his wings,_ but he stifled that laugh deep inside him. He didn’t want to wake; he didn’t want Sam to stop. The giant human reached for him then, pressing a hot hand to the base of his wing, it made Gabriel shudder, but he felt no ill will with those fingers, just a soothing touch.

He gently scratched at the base, fingers digging precariously into the muscle joint, and smoothing out, kneading slowly and surely, as if he knew exactly where to touch. Gabriel melted, and his wings falling lax under Sam’s wondrous ministrations, unfurling from around Sam and opening up like a flower.

_This felt familiar._

This wasn’t the first time Sam had done this for him, to him.

Gabriel stilled, but he really couldn’t, not with those fingers constantly moving, massaging him in the very places that ached him. He couldn’t think passed the heat of those hands, the scent of the man towering over him, he couldn’t think of _anything._

_This isn’t the first time you’ve felt like this Gabriel…_

Sam had been there for him like this before. Sam had been there, watching him, waiting for him, helping him when things had gone too far. And he was here now.

Sam…

_“I’m going to kill Lucifer, all for you, my sweet Gabriel,”_

He remembered. _Sam…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [check out my latest update post for when this fic will be next updated~!](http://sakurai-ai.tumblr.com/post/173422214156/sakuraiais-ao3-chapter-updates)


	7. Chapter 7

Dropping down to his knees in front of Gabriel, he reached for the archangels’ boots and started to untie the laces. Gabriel pulled his feet away, looking down.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled somewhat by the sound of the shower.

Ignoring the archangel, he took a tight hold of Gabriel’s ankle and pulled his leg forward. He continued untying the laces and pulled the shoes off. He saw Gabriel close his eyes and let out a long breath as he allowed Sam to do as he pleased.

Sam took note, and was awed in how much trust the archangel was showing. Once both shoes were off, he threw them and his white socks, behind them. He chuckled when Gabriel wiggled his toes. God, it was east to get addicted to this feeling, this feeling of caring for someone. He always liked caring for others, but right now, with an exhausted and powered down archangel, it was like teaching a child how to act like a grown up sometimes.

Was that why it was so easy for Sam to accept this? Or was it something else? Another feeling he had? Something that was deep inside him?

It was no secret that he had been watching Gabriel since he had ventured deeper into the depths of hell all those years ago. Watching and waiting for the right moment.

He was already hooked to Gabriel. Attune to the archangels every move, he had heard him in pain, heard him in tears. It had hurt him every time he had to wait for the right time. His ears were attune to every breath, every sigh. Gabriel’s true voice, Sam didn’t really understand the squirm in his stomach ever time Gabriel said his name, or hell, even spoke. His voice was beautiful, filled with mischief even with the pain. It was so much more so than he expected.

It was weird, but in that time, Sam had come to love the archangel tied and worn down by the devil. But he wasn’t going to dip his toe into that kind of territory. Not now that Gabriel was like this.

He needed to recuperate, to recover, and then they could talk about it.

The steam from the showers enveloped around the two, creating a small space just for them. Sam stood up suddenly, pulling Gabriel with him.

“Take your jeans off,” He ordered, he wasn’t going to go into that territory. The territory that made him stare at the archangel’s lithe chest, his hip bones and the small trail that started from his navel to his—

_Fuck._

Gabriel nodded and shucked his jeans off, they pooled to the ground by his feet, leaving him in naked except for his white boxers and gorgeous wings.  Sam took a long, deep breath. His wings…they had just been groomed. It would take a long while to dry them after the shower.

“Can you put those away?”

Gabriel peered behind him and the six large wings packed and bandaged tightly to his back. Sam could see his face concentrate as he tried to send them away, but nothing happened.

He shook his head, looking down, crestfallen. Sam reached for him, holding him close once again. He tapped his lips to the angels’ forehead, hoping to soothe the archangel.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He said, shrugging off his plaid shirt and jeans. In just his boxers and undershirt he moved them both to the shower cubicle. “We’ll do this the long way then,”

The water was warm as it hit them. It cascaded down both of them, soaking them through. Gabriel’s hair drooped down over his forehead as he leaned into Sam, resting his weary head on the hunter’s chest.

Sam reached back for the shampoo, squirting some in his hands and running the small lather he created through that head of blonde hair. Scratching lightly and rubbing soothing circles over his head and neck as he cleaned the blood and dirt from his hair. He heard the archangel moan at his caresses.

Sam sucked in a gasp as his fingers brushed against Gabriel’s pale skin, the touch sent bolts of lightning through his body. He shivered, feeling the electric white gold grace spark between them.

Gabriel’s muscles were tense, but he was breathing slowly at Sam’s ministrations. Sam leaned back again and took a wash cloth and shower gel, squirting a good amount. He created a foamy lather and ran the wash cloth over his skin. Gabriel leaned in closer as Sam ran the soap from his back, around the base of his wings, over his shoulders and down his arms.

Sam understood Gabriel’s vehemence, but there was no denying the heat in his cheeks, his ragged breath, the feel of his quickened heartbeat. This was a definite change in their relationship, and Sam felt like it was going to be a force to reckon with.

Blood thundered through his veins, care heating it and pushing it faster and hotter through him. Sam took in and released several deep breaths, needing his control. He pulled the archangel back

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He murmured, mostly to himself, running his thumbs in small circles on Gabriel’s arms.

“Sam,” He murmured, grasping at Sam’s wet shirt.

Sam smiled hesitantly and held the soapy Gabriel under the stream of water. Gabriel sucked in a breath at the sudden warm water hitting his skin. Sam reached for the wash cloth, squirting more shower gel onto it. He ran the wash cloth down the archangels’ body, slowly yet methodically cleaning him.

He could hear Gabriel’s heartbeat pounding as his hands glided quickly down his thighs; rising up to his sides once again, pressed the sponge lightly against his skin. Several shivers ran down Sam’s spine and he began to feel slightly aroused at Gabriel’s mewled moans.

_Damn it. This was not the best time._

A few moments later, when the soap had washed away under the water, Sam turned the shower off. Gabriel had returned to leaning back on him, his forehead resting against Sam’s shoulder. Sam reached out to the hook outside the stalls and yanked the large towel off. He wrapped it around the archangel, glad it was large enough to wrap around his wings and body.

Together they stepped out of the shower. He settled Gabriel back down on the toilet seat. Sam shook his head, getting all of the excess water from his hair out.  He found a few more towels in one of the cupboards and returned to the archangel. Running the fluffy towel over the archangel’s head, he smiled.

This was nice.

Once the archangels’ hair was somewhat dry, he ushered the exhausted archangel out of the bathroom and to his room. Still completely wet himself, Sam let out a shiver at the change of temperature from the steamy bathroom and the hallway.

They quickly made their way to Sam’s room, the closest in the home, and honestly, Sam didn’t want Gabriel to go too far away. He switched on the lamp and settled Gabriel onto the bed. The archangel complied, watching, through half lidded eyes, as the hunter rushed around his room, looking for two separate sets of clothes.

Sam ordered the archangel to take off his wet boxers and gave him a new set, along with pyjamas and a t-shirt. Gabriel pulled on his pyjamas and stared at the shirt. Sam shed off his wet clothes and changed into a pair of dry pyjamas. He turned to Gabriel, watching the archangel look at the shirt with a confused look.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

Gabriel held the shirt up, the back of it facing Sam, “M-my w-wings won’t fit in here, Sammy,” he said quietly, bright golden eyes wide.

Sam took the shirt from him and held it up. Gabriel was right. If the archangel couldn’t Houdini his wings, then they’d have to find another way to do this.

Getting an idea, he pulled open the top drawer of his desk and fished out a pair of scissors. Snipping at the cloth, making two slit at the back of the shirt, he smirked at his work of art.

“There,” He said, pulling the shirt over Gabriel’s head and moving his arms and wings into their holes. Gabriel smiled brightly as his wings fluttered behind him. He looked down and his face fell.

“Sorry about your shirt,” his murmur was so low; Sam felt his entire body softened.

He had heard stories about just who and what the archangel Gabriel was, and it was nothing like the way he was acting now. The constant torture in hell had made him a changed man.

Sam wished he would be able to help him get back to the way he was before all of this hell. And he would start off by getting his archangel back to his full strength. He methodically rubbed Gabriel’s wings with the towel, drying off any excess dampness.

“I have a lot of shirts, sweetheart,” Once the wings were dry, he settled the archangel onto his bed and pulled the covers over his body. “Sleep now,”

“Why are you doing this Sam?” Gabriel asked, playing with the threads of the bed covers.

Sam took in a deep breath, “Because I care about you,” he answered honestly. “Now sleep, you need your rest,”

“W-wait, Sam. D-don’t leave?” Gabriel beckoned, holding his arms up, making grabbing motions. He knew this was a lot for Gabriel to ask, an archangel, a powerful being, reduced to…to _this._

Sam didn’t want him to think any less of himself, so he complied, settling into the bed next to his archangel. He intended to only stay there for a short while, until Gabriel fell asleep, but he soon found himself a few hours later, still watching the archangel sleep, unable to do so himself.

_Fuck…_

Seeing sleep as a pointless endeavour, Sam peeled Gabriel’s grip on his arm and got up and out of bed. The room was a little chilly, and the floor was cool. Taking one last look at the archangel asleep on his bed, he closed the door and made his way to the kitchen. Coffee was in order.

He stopped when he saw Dean sitting on the island bar, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“So, you gonna tell me what all this is about?”

**Author's Note:**

> Small start...what do you think?
> 
> Come and have a cup of tea with me on [ Also! Art! ](http://http://sakurai-ai.tumblr.com/>my%20tumblr!%20</a>%0A%0A<strong><a%20href=)


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